The other day as I was leaving the playground after having dropped my
daughter off at school, a young boy asked me "Hey, donít you know my
Dad?"

"Why yes!" I quipped "We were cellmates! I drew a picture of a woman on
his back!"

Now, if youíre like me you think thatís pretty clever. If youíre like
that little boy, you were briefly puzzled and then you forgot about it.
If, however, youíre like one of the many teachers or parents who heard
me quite clearly, then instead of talking to you I ought to be running.
But Iím not talking, Iím writing, and the Web is a highly anonymous
medium, so Iím not concerned.

Iíd like to state clearly and for the record, I was only joking. The
boyís father tiled my bathroom, and apart from being a fan of the Doobie
Brothers, has very little in common with Buzzy "Doberman" Yates, a man
whoís unconditional love for me once had to be curbed with a homemade
Ďshiví. The implication regarding my Daughterís classmateís Fatherís at
least passive homosexuality was merely a Humorous device. I hardly know
the man well enough to guess as to what floats his boat in the boudoir.
Despite my habitually mincing gate, I myself know very little of the
Insidious Vice of the French or their fine community.

The point is, having thought of a witty rejoinder it just seems a crime
against humanity to hold it in. Just the other day I purchased a rug at
a discount store. The less than helpful staff rolled the rug for me, but
that was it. I asked if they had any strapping tape I could use, which
they gave me. I then asked for a knife or scissors. After a lengthy
pause, the unfiltered Camels habituate behind the desk asked, "What
for?" Torn between responding

I was unable to answer and eventually settled for silence and a brutal
stomachache. (I toyed briefly with the cryptic "The better to see you
with, my dear" but abandoned it as too cerebral.)

If a telemarketer says to you "This is a courtesy call", arenít you
obliged to respond that the greatest courtesy would be if theyíd take
the phone and beat themselves about the privates until the chance of
them contributing to the gene pool was significantly diminished, or if
they were in the unfortunate position of already having reproduced they
should beat their children instead? If a cabby says, "do you mind if I
smoke?", is it really so bad to set them on fire? And if a third thing
happens that really puts the capper on this pyramidal humor construct,
mustnít I, perforce, make a jibe still funnier than the two preceding
it?

As my therapist says, "You canít keep this stuff bottled up." No wait,
it wasnít my therapist, it was a burly orderly during my most recent
involuntary commitment, but the gist is still the same.

Yes, itís true; politeness is a worthwhile social value. But when life
serves up a straight line and you donít jump on it, Iím pretty sure it
says in the Bible that makes Jesus cry. Thatís a religious value, and
itís well known religious values are the Paper to social values Rock.
The value of Scissors has already been discussed.

And yes, as I was often instructed in childhood, nobody likes a Smart-Ass. But honestly, when did you last hear someone say, "Iím so
glad we invited you. Everybody here just adores you because youíre such
a Dumb-Ass"?

note: Max pretended to not speak
English the last time a telemarketer called him with a "courtesy
call". You'd be amazed at how long they'll still try to sell you
something even if the only words you say are "I no speak a
English!"